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Those first thick gusts of spring
We are driving out to the island the second Monday in a row for me, a Monday ago in the buoyant warm of growing moon gibbous round and all those first thick gusts of spring, and now Tom and I, a totally spontaneous date the tidewater springs and gullies high with rain the echo cacophony…
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i see the storm we go south in
(or, cypress calling home~) the way it happens is the weight of the wet gray sky landing all in my hair making it so it is all i can breathe of the air backyard woods beneath the three galant ladies triumph tulip poplars ancient mama owl face mother night she prays and prays ladies wet…
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I go camping solo
I live in the mid-Atlantic coastal tidewater region, near the top of the northern most habitat for native bald cypress swamp on the east coast of the States. We are 20 to 30 minutes of backroads away from the most tender, unique and ancient public habitats you could imagine, making me endlessly grateful for state…
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Proclamation.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. max erhmann It’s a real thing I take for granted so much I don’t often see it. Lately especially life is waving it in my face everywhere so the only thing I can do is…
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key bridge in the distance
for weeks at a time i am convinced the gold bells ring from the other side afloat on sea wind, they drop bigger than dimes taste heavenly as sacred fruit dish of soft, the sweet the bitterephemeral light pause, the delight of air at once inside immense, the exalt plum of quietnessthe warmth, the tenderness…
Kel 